


/frontier psychiatrist

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Ableism, Eating Disorders, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fat Shaming, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Stalking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Internalized Homophobia, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Prison, Psychological Torture, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-03 21:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: Charlie goes to prison for stalking a local waitress. Him and his cellmate Mac are, blessedly, given a second chance thanks to Charlie's close personal friend, Frank. The one catch being that their fate is in the hands of one psychologist.That psychologist's name is Dennis Reynolds.





	1. Fate (Prologue)

On a fine Saturday morning two years ago, Dennis received a letter. His whore of a wife, of course, opened it without asking. It turned out to be her brother's suicide note.

_Dear Maureen and Dennis._

_By the time you receive this, I'll probably be dead._

_Not that you'd know. You never call._

_-Bill_

Dennis framed it, and hung it on his wall.

* * *

 

Prison food was horrible. Charlie was more comfortable, and frankly, less ill when just starving himself. He'd lost a lot of weight since he was locked up. And for the record, it hadn't been a long time at all. About a month, maybe. He preferred to keep himself holed up in his cell, counting the notches in the ceiling. There were many, many, many. Natural pores sunken into the depressing concrete that Charlie kept numbered in his head.

He received a visit on the hour and was surprised to see Frank. Looking clean as usual.

"Charlie! I haven't seen you in years! Then I come to town and you've gotten yourself arrested?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Did you kill someone?"

"No. Just followed someone."

"Aw, shit. Was it that broad from the cafe?"

"Yes." 

Charlie was close enough to hanging up. He'd already explained this to his mom, and everyone here he'd met. But what came next gave him pause. Much pause. A pause so long, you'd think time was stopped.

"Don't worry, kid. I can work this one out." Charlie quirked a brow. "These pigs live for money. I can bail you out no problem!"

"Uh," Charlie looked around. "I don't know if it works that way."

"It's not  _supposed to_ , but it  _does_. Our legal system is run by the almighty dollar, and that means I'm  _god_ , Charlie!"

"Um. I dunno, man."

"You don't know anything about the law."

"I mean, I'm- I'm versed in bird law."

"That's different! Birds don't need money. People do. Officer Seamus wants to feed 'is wife and kids, and I wanna spring a buddy loose."

"...Can-" Charlie lowered his voice. "Can you do it for Mac?"

"Who the hell is Mac?"

"My roommate, we're like, best friends now. He's clearly a closeted homosexual and I don't think being in like, anal rape hell is doing him any favors."

"I mean." Frank looked up a bit. Pensive. Ponderous. "It probably won't be much skin off my nose. But I'm already doing you a  _pretty big service_."

"C'mon, Frank, I'll literally do anything."

"Alright, I'm holdin' you to that, then. See ya!" Frank grabbed his briefcase off the floor and tottered away. Charlie felt fucking high. Was this real, or like... a simulation? He floated all the way back to his cell feeling lighter than air, and didn't tell anyone. 

It turned out that, somehow, Frank was serious. As if God had come down and blessed Charlie with luck. The God that Mac believed in. It also turned out that, however, the legal system was a bit apprehensive towards the concept of releasing a stalker and a drug dealer back into the world without any sign of betterment. In honesty, Charlie believed he'd done nothing wrong. It was an absolute joke, frankly, that they were now trying to make romance illegal. Idiots.

Charlie had surprised Mac with the possibility of freedom. Mac was overwhelmed. They hugged.

Then Frank returned.

"So I can spring you loose. On  _one condition_."

"Fuck me sideways. God dammit. Son of a bitch." Charlie flattened his palms on the table, resting his head on the glass separating them.

"It's not a big thing! We just gotta have you guys  _psychologically evaluated_."

"Ewwha...?"

"Ya gotta start seein' a therapist, and when he says you're good to go, you're all out, no questions asked." Frank gestured, exaggeratedly. "Until then you two hang out at my place and. Y'know, every time you gotta go somewhere, either me or Dennis has to be there. Just like havin' kids again."

"Who's Dennis?"

"My son. Your doctor."

"Oh."

"Once we get all the paperwork done with, we're all good. And- honestly, I'll let ya run around a  _little_ as long as you don't get me in any deep shit. But, like, then when Dennis says you're fit for society and whatever, some more legal stuff happens and you go home."

Almighty dollar, indeed.

Within the month, Charlie and Mac were driven away by Frank Reynolds in his fancy car. Still in their prison duds.

And prison would've been better than what transpired next.


	2. Lepidoptera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting room white room.

The waiting room was spic and span. Charlie and Mac looked out-of-place in this pristine area. The people awaiting evaluation were all rich-looking middle aged men, and sprightly teenage girls. It made Charlie feel ugly, uglier than normal. His hot orange jumpsuit got him wayward glances. Well, that and the fact that Mac's tattoos and scowl made him resemble the kind of man who'd kill you in an alley. The two men shrunk into a corner, Frank close behind.

"So Dennis, he's like, a genius. Graduated from Penn. He'll fix your shit."

"Whatever." Mac grunted. "I feel like I should've showered before coming here."

"Yeah." 

Charlie just made sure his eyes were pointed to the floor at all times. They were suddenly approached by some blonde lady. She wore a pencil skirt, and rectangular glasses. Her lips pressed together as she looked at her clipboard.

"Ronald and Charles, I take it?"

"Deandra." Frank cut in. "This is Charlie, and his friend Mac. They're here 'cause--"

"I know, it's my job to know that." The lady -- Deandra? -- redirected her gaze to Mac and Charlie. "He's ready for one of you. Who first?"

"Uh, I will." Mac stood. "Just, y'know, to test the waters for Charlie."

"It's not like we're gonna kill you." Deandra rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Follow."

Mac and Deandra disappeared behind a wall. Charlie resumed staring at the floor. Counting every fold in the carpet. Just like in prison, really. He then gazed to the wall. Hundreds of pinned butterflies in frames. Charlie recognized some of the specimens. (He'd been a bit of an animal dork in high school.) Blue morpho. He'd always wanted to see one of those. Alive, of course. Dead butterflies are everywhere. 

He wondered what Kim was doing.

With her luscious hair. Her beautiful eyes. Charlie wanted to kiss her. Charlie wanted to spend his life with her. Charlie wanted to feel her hand in his own. Charlie wanted to feel her body heat, and taste her skin, and smell her pheromones. Charlie wanted to eat breakfast with her, see her off to work, and come home to her embrace. He didn't understand. What had he done wrong?

He did everything for her. Bought her gifts. Visited her at work. Paid her compliments. He'd give her money. Help do her laundry. Clean her pipes. Make sure none of the food in her fridge went bad. He learned to pick locks after she'd changed her lock twice, so he could come in and do things for her. He'd do anything for her. Kill himself, even. If she asked, if she demanded, he'd punch a hole in his skull with a bullet. The only thing he wouldn't do for her is leave her alone.

She needed him.

~~He needed the idea that she needed him.~~

On the court date, she said she never wanted to see him again. His breath stopped, when she said it. In prison he realized he had nothing to live for.

"I wanna fucking kill myself."

"Aw, Charlie, don't talk like that." Frank cut in. Shit, he said that out loud, didn't he. "Seein' a therapist ain't a bad thing. I mean, I don't do it 'cause I don't need one, but there's nothin' wrong with needing one."

"Um, uh..." Charlie's throat dried. "I didn't, uh... Say that."

"Yeah you did, I saw you."

"Maybe you do need a therapist, Frank, you're- you're seein' things."

"I'm not, I ain't that old."

"I don't, uh..."

"Look, man, I get it. You go to jail, you get depressed, you think life ain't worth livin'. Just like, whatever? Right? Whatever. Famous rappers get slammed by the law all the time, Charlie."

"That's completely different."

Frank squinted, and changed the subject.

"Say. You think those butterflies are real?"

"Yeah, that's like, a thing people do. They treat bugs with chemicals and then pin them and hang them up."

"Man. I ain't never seen that before."

"Really? It's not like it's, you know... a thing people don't usually do."

"Well maybe for you. I'm involved with prestigious and  _largely normal_ people."

"It's not weird. It's..."

"Weird."

"Fine. Whatever."

Charlie gazed into the glass above the bugs. His eyes were one with the shape of the Monarch, and he was frightened. Only for a moment, of course. Then he felt the pounding in his chest and couldn't remember what the fuck he was doing.

The hour was long. Charlie had nothing to do.

Nothing but... count the marks on the ceiling. His stomach twitched... when was the last time he'd eaten? 

"I'm starvin'."

No response. "Frank."

"I don't have food, I dunno what to tell you."

"You always have food."

"Yes. And it's mine. I don't have Charlie food."

The butterflies looked good.

He was about to go break through the glass when he heard Mac's voice. Was the hour up?

"Hey, man. Lot of intrusive questions in there. Dunno if you should go."

"He's a psychologist, it's his job. You'll be fine, Charlie." Frank pushed him forward a bit. Deandra waited expectantly near the hall, tapping her pen on her clipboard and staring at Charlie. He suddenly felt small. Smaller than ever before.

* * *

 

"Dennis."

Knock knock knock. "Deeennniiiiiis." Knock knock. "He's probably checking his hair or something. Dennis!"

The door flew open. A big, wooden door with a plaque on it, reading, 'Dennis Reynolds Psy D.' Dennis was a tall man. In a suit, with pale blue eyes. He looked clean. He didn't look like a real person at all, in fact. All plastic and bones and angles. If Charlie didn't feel like a fat piece of shit before, he definitely did now. That god damn suit, it was probably worth more than all of Charlie's and Mac's possessions combined. Dennis wrinkled his nose.

"Are you serious? He looks like a... God damnit..."

"Dad's paying for him too."

Charlie rose a brow. So- so Deandra was also Frank's kid? How many children did Frank have just scattered around the world? What if Frank was  _his_ dad? 

"...Alright. Charlie, was it? May I call you that? Come on in, sit down, make yourself comfortable."

Deandra gently pushed him in and shut the door. On the inside of the door was an enormous floor-to-ceiling mirror... and then another two hand mirrors balanced on a nearby desk. So many mirrors. More butterflies and moths were pinned in a box on the wall, these ones were  _huge_. "Sit down, I said."

"Um..." Charlie nodded, plunking down in a leather chair. It was so comfortable. He could've slept in it.

"Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Reynolds. You look rather tense."

"This place is, uh... A little fancy."

"I can tell."

Charlie cocked his head. "...Oh, I mean, well, what I'm saying is, you appear of a bit  _lower status_ than I usually work with. You can probably already tell." Dennis sat across from him, hands clasped together. "So. What is it you were arrested for, if you don't mind me asking."

"Did the outfit give it away? Uhh..." Charlie scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I really like this girl. I guess I took it too far and got locked up for stalking her."

"Stalking? Well, well then." Dennis leaned in. "What was it about her? What did she have that other women didn't? A tight ass, perhaps? Ample cleavage? Simply a gorgeously-sculpted body?"

"I mean. I'm not... gonna say she's not attractive, but... It's more than that."

"Oh, sure it is."

"I mean, she seems so nice and... so friendly. I think I'm in love with her."

"But how can you say that if you hardly know her?"

"Well of course I know her. I clean her house almost every day!... She never knows I'm there."

"You're one of those hopeless romantic types? Cute, but not impressive." Dennis tapped his pen on his notepad. "Do you believe any men are innocent, Charlie?"

"Well, sure."

"Do you believe you're one of those men?"

"I mean, I think so."

"Would you kill for her?"

"Would I k..." Charlie balked. He felt... offended by that, a bit. "No? Of course not, dude..."

"Well, put it this way. If she was taken by a man... More attractive than you. Less fat." Dennis motioned towards Charlie's body. "Cleaner. Smarter. More well-off, no criminal record to speak of. And, dare I say it, more well-endowed."

"Well-end... like my dick?! Are you gay or something, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Charlie."

"And like, to say I'd kill someone? 'cause what, I'm a little mentally ill? Fuck you, man."

"Charlie."

"You seriously say shit like that? To patients? You should be--"

" _CHAR. LIE. KEL. LY._ "

Charlie froze up. Something about that delivery... made him sick to his stomach. He couldn't speak as Dennis  _stared him down_ , like a starving predator. "I do believe I'm the one who's supposed to be asking the questions. Do you know where you are? Only once in a blue moon do I even bother dealing with gutter trash like yourself. Show some god damned restraint."

"Sorry."

"Good. No more complaining? We can continue?"

Charlie nodded, eyes buggy. This was bad, bad, bad. 


End file.
